


Wake Up Next To A /Stranger/

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hate you, Wentz,” Patrick hisses, wriggling in Pete’s bear hug.<br/>Really, one-night stand thing sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Next To A /Stranger/

Coincidences are not accidental.

It starts with the fight for a blanket — Pete feels like his whole body’s covered with ice, and his narcissism makes him tug his blanket from under the person lying next to him.

“I’m cold,” Pete mumbles sleepily, pushing a guy who’s sprawled on the blanket. He sits up on the bed and shakes his shoulder as if everything is okay, but then, in the best tradition of bad comedy, Pete realizes that it’s not.

There are at least three suspicious items:

1\. Pete is naked.

2\. His bedfellow is his roommate Patrick OH HEY PATRICK GET OUT OF MY BED YOU’RE LITTLE SHIT!!!

3\. Dried substance on the sheets can only mean the one thing…

Fuck. _Literally fuck._ Pete almost falls on the floor, finds his jeans under the bed (also under his bed he finds an empty bottle, tissues and lube) and pulls them on, not bothering about his underwear. It’s not so important in compare to the thing he has to tell Patrick, but Pete just hopes that Patrick remembers everything, and maybe he liked it?.. _Oops._ Next time Pete will rent an apartment with a hot girl and not with some nerdy student. _Don’t think about how cute he is when he sleeps, don’t think._ Patrick sniffs. _‘He’s cute,’_ Pete thinks.

“WAKE THE FUCK UP!!” Pete shouts into Patrick’s ear.

“What?” Patrick blinks a few times and lazily forces himself into a sitting position.

“I have some news for you,” Pete begins, his heart pounding heavy in his chest. _‘I lost my job yesterday, and you came home from some party drunk, and then we found vodka in the fridge, and WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SO STUPID?!’_

Apparently, Patrick is not a morning person, and he can’t understand Pete’s train of thought. It looks like he doesn’t even notice that he woke up in Pete’s bed instead of his sofa.

“My back hurts,” Patrick complains, wincing.

Pete’s running out of patience, but he thinks that Patrick’s brain works slow because of his hangover, and he tries to be kind.

“Only your _back_ or?..” Pete asks politely.

“Yes… No,” Patrick shakes his head, listening to his sensations. “No. What happened to my t-shirt?” he sounds confused, looking down at the dubious stains.

Sarcastically, Pete wonders: does this guy know where babies come from? _‘Look at your boxers and tell me why did you put your underwear back on right after unprotected sex.’_ Patrick is a very shy kid, and that’s all what Pete can remember right now. He thinks he should burn his bed with their dirty clothes for a company. Patrick’s yellow t-shirt is ugly anyway.

“It was a hot night,” Pete sighs, shrugging.

“Oh my God,” Patrick blurts out, glancing at small round bruises on his hips. He jumps up on the bed and covers himself with a blanket instinctively. Pete’s sure that none of the oracles will not help him to clean his karma.

He doesn’t know much about Patrick; he moved from the suburbs of Chicago, he’s a freshman at some college of music, and now he’s going to kill Pete.

“Relax,” Pete grabs Patrick’s hand when he clenches his fist to punch him; it’s not working, and Patrick slaps him with his free hand, but then Pete manages to pin his arms behind his back.

“I hate you, Wentz,” Patrick hisses, wriggling in Pete’s bear hug.

Really, one-night stand thing sucks. Patrick throws his head back, and Pete notices a hickey on his neck; his skin is so soft and sensitive, and suddenly Pete realizes he has no regrets about last night.

If Patrick has a girlfriend, does it count as cheating?

Patrick almost smashes Pete’s nose with the top of his head, but Pete dodges, wrapping his hands around Patrick’s stomach maybe too tight. He makes a muffled sounds and gulps, and Pete looks around the room frantically, searching for a trash can in case if his impressionable partner is going to puke. Fortunately, this is a false alarm, and Patrick starts to calm down.

“If it’s any consolation, you were great,” Pete says, removing his hands off Patrick’s body. His aching head is ready to explode, and then his brain will be all over the walls.

“I’m feeling terrible,” Patrick replies, avoiding Pete’s eyes. “I hate alcohol.”

At the moment, he hates everything and everyone in his life, especially his college friend Brendon who convinced him to get drunk on his Birthday Party. Actually, Patrick can’t quite remember how he ended up in Pete’s bed, but he guesses that Pete wasn’t dragging him by force.

_‘You were great.’_

Jerking off in the shower fifteen minutes later, Patrick bites his lip till he tastes blood and tries not to think about Pete’s words.

 

*** 

Brendon and Patrick are locked in an empty lecture hall, in attempts to set up a projector for Professor Hurley’s show. Literally show; he mixes his lessons with arthouse and other crazy things; he teaches history, but Patrick thinks Mr. Hurley is equally strong in all fields of science. But he doesn’t know how to configure the projector.

Actually, Patrick doesn’t know either, but Brendon makes some magic, and finally a logo picture appears on a big white desk near Professor’s table. Brendon with all his concentration adjusts the brightness of the image.

 _‘Don’t tell him; don’t tell him, you’re ashamed, keep your mouth shut. _’_  _But what’s the fuck? Brendon is his only friend.

“Gonna commit suicide, any advices?” Patrick asks in a _really_ sad voice. Probably he looks like a Grumpy Cat or like Grinch from that movie, because Patrick’s pretty sure his face is slightly green.

“Reason?” Brendon frowns.

“Awful sex,” Patrick mutters, staring at the parquet.

Brendon expresses a condolence with his entire human essence.

“Oh man… This happens sometimes, not with me, but anyway,” he tries to encourage his upset friend. “Who is she?”

Patrick slams his forehead against the wall, hoping that the blow was hard enough to bring him a concussion and amnesia.

“She… She wasn’t _her_ , um… It was Pete,” Patrick feels dizzy like he’s going to pass out, so there’ll be a great reason to skip the lecture, and oh God, he really wants to fall into a lethargic sleep.

“Well… I’m sorry, but…” Brendon pauses. The worst part always goes after any ‘but’. “Who was bottom?”

Patrick groans and begins to bang his head against the wall furiously, and Brendon takes it as _‘me’_. With a loud ‘boom’ Patrick hits the wall once again; this time with a sufficient force to be a little bit satisfied. He has no idea why he agreed to live with Pete; it’s just not too expensive and apartment’s owner — Travis — is such a good man.

To be honest, Patrick would prefer to share the room with Brendon, but he’s trying to get along with his girlfriend Sarah in her own apartment. Patrick isn’t sure if they’re doing it well, but he doesn’t want to ruin something in their relationship. Besides, Brendon has some sympathy for Ryan who likes vintage clothes and emo make-up.

The sound of the door opening dispels the cloud of Patrick’s thoughts.

“Wow, I’m impressed!” Professor Hurley smiles, entering the lecture hall with the other students. “Are you ready to kick some ancient Greeks’ asses?”

 

*** 

Pete needs to get a new job as soon as possible, because that shitty bar found a new bartender:  _tall, beautiful and funny Gabe,_ and Pete is _just Pete,_ and it’s the first and biggest trouble of his life. Patrick is the second trouble; Pete knows that Patrick works at Trohman’s bookstore on his own time, and it means he’ll return in the evening. But obviously, he is in no hurry to go back home.

At 11 p.m. Pete lets out a sigh of relief as he hears a scuffling in the hallway, and then Patrick walks into the living /his/ room. He’s pale, tired and sleepy, and he looks like a zombie with dark circles under his eyes, and Pete admits it’s kind of his fault. He just hopes that Patrick doesn’t have a psychological trauma or something like that.

But well, he doesn’t look happy.

“How was your day?” Pete asks, rising his eyebrow. He’s sitting on _Patrick’s_ sofa, and really — his own bed is much softer.

“Awesome. Yours?” Patrick goes to kitchen not waiting for the answer.

Why does he behave like a victim? Pete’s memories about their sex are blurry, but he can tell that they both enjoyed it.

“Fine. Wanna talk about our relationship?” Pete grins, imagining how Patrick’s cheeks turn pink.

“Should I get checked for venereal diseases?” Patrick shouts back; the words are indistinct, because he’s definitely eating a stale sandwich, and his mouth is full of bread.

Pete laughs softly.

“No, I’m clean as a virgin, but what about you?” he asks, wondering why their dialogue consists of nothing but questions.

Surprisingly, Patrick goes into the living room and freezes, standing in front of Pete.

“I’m a virgin. Well, I’m not sure about it now, but two nights ago I was, I mean,” Patrick says, shrugging as if it means nothing.

“Wait,” Pete gasps. “Girlfriend?”

“No. Never. I was busy,” he replies sheepishly.

He doesn’t consider himself a loser, so he doesn’t care if Pete will be laughing at him.

“Wait again, how old are you?” Pete knows that he will not hear ‘fourteen’ in response, but he’s scared because he’s older anyway.

“Eighteen, almost nineteen,” Patrick yawns. “I want to sleep, and I _really_ need to go to bathroom,” he turns away and leaves the room quickly.

Pete feels like he’s a supervillain, and he thinks that in theory he should marry Patrick.

 

 *** 

Pete doesn’t hear the noise of running water, but Patrick doesn’t come out of the bathroom. Actually Pete expects to hear muffled moans instead or what can eighteen-year-old do in the shower for so long?

No moans. Something’s wrong, and Pete can’t get rid of that feeling, so he goes and knocks on the door.

“Trick are you alive?” he asks with a growing panic.

“Yesss,” but Patrick’s voice sounds not just tired, it sounds _dead tired_.

Patrick is not in the mood today, and probably he’s in a depressive state, and Pete knows pretty well what it feels like. It’s dangerous.

“Let me in,” he says, but he’s sure the answer will be…

“No,” Patrick replies and something falls at the background.

Pete loses his composure completely; he’s ready to break the goddamn door; Pete kicks it, and a fragile latch gives up.

Really, Patrick is still alive, and he stands near the sink, holding a bottle of pills in his hand; he’s shocked, and one of the white pills is clamped between his teeth as he doesn’t have a time to swallow it.

“Fuck!” Pete groans, rushing to Patrick; he sees a fear in his green sleepy eyes, but it all happens too fast. He grabs Patrick’s wrist, an opened bottle falls onto the floor, and pills jump on the tiles in different directions.

__‘_ It’s a mistake, Trick, I swear I will never touch you again, just tell me how much did you take. _’__

Pete knows what he has to do, and he’s a fucking expert in that thing.

“Wha-a…” Patrick struggles and bites Pete’s thumb when he pulls a pill out of his mouth. Pete doesn’t pay any attention and thrusts his fingers down Patrick’s throat, making him to lean over the sink.

Patrick gags, but it’s not enough to heave something up, and Pete keeps doing this emergency procedure till Patrick’s elbow hits his ribs. There comes a forced timeout, and Pete suddenly sees the word written on that damned bottle of pills. __‘__ _Vitamins. He doesn’t want to kill himself; he just wants to be healthier. _’__

“Sorry,” Pete mumbles and rubs his side; he’s pretty sure he will burn in hell for all his sins at this week. Exhausted, Patrick starts retching again; he’s shaking, and Pete just makes a few steps backwards. __‘__ _You’re a coward, why did you do this to him?! _’_ _

He can’t stop making mistakes.

Patrick spits into the sink and wipes his lips and chin.

“Now explain, what the fuck? Are you insane?!” he wheezes.

“You’ve stayed in the bathroom too long, and I thought…” Pete chokes.

“I was trying to clean this black shit off the bottom of my shoe,” Patrick responds darkly, pointing at the corner of the room. Really, his left converse’s stained with some strange rubbish, which probably, came from space with very bad intentions.

Pete wants to rewind the time for a couple of days ago.

“Trick wait,” his heart breaks when Patrick pushes him away and grabs his shoes.

“I’m leaving,” Patrick says angrily. “Can I have, like, a little bit of privacy?”

Pete nods and doesn’t even try to stop his roommate when he goes out of the door.

 

*** 

He can’t sleep, and he has to find Patrick before it’s too late; but it’s already _too late,_ and Pete can’t imagine how he will explain to Patrick’s mom what happened to her son. Patrick always forgets his things, and Pete hears the ringtone — The X-files theme is really creepy, he thinks, reaching his hand to Patrick’s phone.

_‘1 new message from: Brendon’_

Pete sighs and presses ‘read.’

_‘Hey asshole Wentz! If you see this, then my address is: Weekes-Avenue 182/27. If you don’t see this then we hate you._

_p.s. Patrick asked me to send this message to his number cuz he doesn’t remember yours.’_

Pete wants to jump around the room as a kid with happy tears on his eyes. _Trick’s fine, he’s alive and he’s just hanging out with his friend._

Pete pops up on the street and hails a cab, and it’s really weird night, because the taxi driver — curly-haired guy with the nametag ‘Ian’ — tells Pete about ‘small reddish dude with the same address.’

“Do you guys throw a pajama party or what?” Ian winks.

“Yes,” Pete replies simply. “Did that guy pay you?” he’s sure that Patrick usually has no money in his shorts that he wears at home.

The driver looks confused.

“Well… No, but he looked terrible, and…” he pauses. “Let’s just forget about it, it’s not a big deal.”

The car drives up to the building on Weekes-Avenue, and Pete decides to pay for two trips just because Ian is an angel. A very stubborn angel who doesn’t want to take the money, so Pete just leaves them on the back seat.

How to talk to the guy who lost his virginity to you? And if you almost made his stomach pumped by mistake?

Pete rings the doorbell. Patrick opens the door, and Pete forgets all the beautiful words he has to say.

“Patrick Stump, I wanna fuck you again just to make you sure you’re great, gorgeous and amazing!” Pete blurts out, hugging Patrick and noticing the other guy in the hallway.

“Shut up,” Patrick smirks; he smells like coffee and vanilla, and this is the sexiest scent ever.

Brendon just thinks they’re happy that Sarah’s at her mother’s house right now and she doesn’t hear anything from this dialogue.

The silence is more than just awkward.

“I think I need to buy… Something,” Brendon says politely, sliding out of the door.

Really, he’s a good friend. Pete doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, and Patrick leads him to a small kitchen.

“I tried to commit suicide by overdose,” Pete confesses. “Twice. And when I saw you with pills…”

“Oh,” Patrick rubs a bruise on his forehead; banging his head against the wall was successful.

“Sorry again,” Pete’s eyes are terribly sad.

“It’s okay, I can understand,” Patrick nods.

He pulls out three mugs from the cupboard and turns on an electric kettle. Brendon will be there at any moment, so Patrick decides to talk to Pete _in their apartment_ tomorrow.

Patrick begins to remember some things about _that night,_ and it’s not bad memories, especially their kisses. Well, it’s pretty romantic. Yes, they both were drunk, and it’s just a coincidence; but coincidences are not accidental, and maybe they should try it again.

“What are you thinking about?” Pete asks worriedly.

“About our future,” Patrick sighs melancholically, but a little smile is already playing at the corner of his mouth.

With the loud ‘I’M HOME!’ Brendon advertises his appearance; it’s almost dawn, and new morning definitely will be better than yesterday.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what's wrong with me and why i keep writing fics like this  
> \----  
> you can let me know about any grammar mistakes because i don't speak english


End file.
